


Ghost Story

by guti



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Birthday, Ghosts, M/M, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 05:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8274409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guti/pseuds/guti
Summary: Raúl didn’t believe it the first time Guti told him about the mysterious ghost that lived at the Bernabéu.  And why would he, honestly?  It was the sort of thing that sounds like a hoax, like some sort of hazing ritual meant to scare the shit out of him.  Like, okay, haha, pull a prank on the Colchonero, try and terrify him until the red’d been bled out of him and all that remained was white.  Initially, he thought he’d play along.  And why not?  It was just a stupid made-up story, meant to tease him for being from Atléti.  So Raúl rolled his eyes and sighed, and let Guti tell him all about the spooky inhabitant who called the stadium home.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cantilever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantilever/gifts).



Raúl didn’t believe it the first time Guti told him about the mysterious ghost that lived at the Bernabéu. And why would he, honestly? It was the sort of thing that sounds like a hoax, like some sort of hazing ritual meant to scare the shit out of him. Like, okay, haha, pull a prank on the Colchonero, try and terrify him until the red’d been bled out of him and all that remained was white. 

A prank made sense, Raúl understood it. He was the new guy at La Fábrica, still proving himself, still an outsider of sorts. Most of the others had been together for years, and Raúl was an intruder, and Guti liked to have his fun. Raúl got it. Except that Guti didn’t drop the gag ever, and instead he continued to hype this ghost like it was an actual thing that actually roamed around the pitch at night.

Initially, he thought he’d play along. And why not? It was just a stupid made-up story, meant to tease him for being from Atléti. So Raúl rolled his eyes and sighed, and let Guti tell him all about the spooky inhabitant who called the stadium home.

“Okay,” he said, a bit resigned as he sat down on the bench to take off his boots, watching closely as Guti paced around the locker room. “Tell me about your spirit, then.”

Guti spun around on his heel, a pleased little smirk on his face as he started to change. “I thought you didn’t care about the ghost.”

“I don’t,” Raúl said, tucking the laces neatly into his boot. “But you won’t shut up about it, so here we are.”

Guti stuck out his tongue, but carried on nonetheless. “Her name is Mercedes.”

“It’s a girl?” Raúl snorted. The first thing that came to mind was the dead lady in the bathtub from _The Shining_ , and he wasn’t sure whether or not he should be freaked out or not. 

“She’s not a girl,” Guti clarified, waggling his eyebrows. “She’s all woman. And don’t get any weird ideas about her, kid. She’s totally out of your league and completely off limits you understand.”

Raúl honestly _didn’t_ understand, but lucky for him, Guti liked to talk, and for some dumb reason, Raúl found that he liked to listen to him.

Mercedes was her name, and she’d been dead a long time, at least a hundred years, maybe even longer than that. And she didn’t give two shits about Real Madrid or the stadium or anything related to football at all. All she wanted was to find her lover. 

“Alfonso,” Guti said, flopping down beside Raúl. They were the only ones left in the locker room. Everyone else had tuned him out and split for the evening. “Her lover’s name is Alfonso, and he used to live near the Bernabéu, a long time ago. She’s looking for him, but she can’t find him, so in her spare time, she likes to take care of the pitch.”

“She what?” Raúl turned to look at him, suddenly incredulous. For whatever reason, _that_ was where he was drawing the line. Everything else? A female ghost haunting the stadium, searching for her long-departed paramour? Sure, why not. But a ghost who haunts the stadium and _waters the lawn_? No way, that was too unbelievable. 

Guti just threw back his head in laughter, then reached out to ruffle Raúl’s hair as he got to his feet, leaving him feeling perplexed and also warm and fuzzy inside. Guti was confusing, and moreover his story was really lame.

Still, the story stayed with him, and the next time he found himself at the Bernabéu, he looked for her. Not like, overtly or anything. But he spared a few cursory glances around corners and down corridors, just in case Mercedes was around and looking for her lover.

Raúl asked Álvaro about it once. Álvaro just laughed and made some quip about never believing a single word that came out of Guti’s mouth, so Raúl left it there. 

Well, sort of.

Turned out, he actually kind of liked a lot of the stuff that came out of Guti’s mouth. Or rather, he liked a lot of the things Guti could _do_ with his mouth. And Guti seemed to like the things Raúl did with his, even if he was still a Rojiblanco in sheep’s clothing. Guti told him as much the first time they kissed, bit his lower lip and teased him when it turned purple. Raúl didn’t much mind the pain, actually. He liked to bite right back. So he did.

He didn’t even think about that stupid ghost story again until Valdano gave him the nod and he got the straight promotion from C to first team. Raúl was seventeen years old and he was about to step onto the bright green pitch of La Romareda. It was October 29th, two days before Guti’s eighteenth birthday, and for some stupid reason, the last thing Raúl thought about before subbing in was that stupid ghost story, and how at least the stadium in Zaragoza wasn't haunted.

Thankfully he got his head out of the clouds though, and before the night was over he’d tallied his first assist, and that was the last he thought of Mercedes the ghost for awhile.

“I got you a present,” Raúl said, two days later, when he’d showed up at Guti’s doorstep, unannounced, but who was really counting. He had a small gift bag in tow, decorated with black and orange tissue paper and a cartoon pumpkin on the side.

Guti raised an eyebrow at him and let him inside. “If it’s not alcoholic, I’m going to be disappointed.”

It wasn’t alcohol, much to Guti’s chagrin. It was instead VHS copies of _Friday the 13th_ and _A Nightmare On Elm Street_. And chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.

Raúl grinned at him, pleased by the thoughtfulness of his gift. “Because it’s your birthday and it’s also Halloween,” he said.

Guti shook his head, feigning disapproval for a moment before leaning in to steal a kiss.

“Happy birthday, Chema,” Raúl chirped, nipping playfully at his lips before escaping Guti’s grasp to put one of the movies on. 

“You’re such a tease,” Guti sighed, ripping open a chocolate bar wrapper as he settled onto the sofa.

“Yes, well,” Raúl said, glancing back over his shoulder. “You’re into it.”

At some point, Guti got into his mom’s wine stash, and between them, they’d finished off a bottle by the time the second flick, they were both pretty tipsy and intermittently making out with each other. It wasn’t until the TV’d been black for about ten minutes that they fully separated and started trying to pick up the place.

“It’s not even late, what the hell…” Guti groaned, glaring at the clock on the wall. It was just past ten, the night was still young.

“You want to watch another movie?” Raúl asked, reaching for another bar of chocolate.

Guti shook his head. “It’s my birthday, man. I want to go out.”

“So let’s go out,” Raúl agreed, rising to his feet, a bit wobbly. “Where should we go?”

Guti sat and thought about it a moment, brows furrowed in concentration before a wicked grin spread across his lips. “I have the best idea. I’m such a genius.”

Raúl cocked his head, watching him in amusement. “Go on.”

“I’m not going to tell you. It’s gonna be a surprise.”

And when the taxi let them off at the stadium, it was indeed a surprise. Raúl stood there on the sidewalk, just staring at it while Guti paid their fare, gaping at the big white house looming overhead. There was really nothing quite like it, and even now having spent the last two years of his life learning to love Los Blancos, Raúl still felt a bit overwhelmed by the place. It wasn't the same feelings of alienation he had the first day he arrived as a transferred youth player. In place of that he felt a sort of reverence he couldn't quite explain. The Bernabéu felt like it was holy ground for him, now that he’d converted and become a loyal crusader.

Guti seemed at ease though, grabbing Raúl by the wrist and leading him around the block away from the main gates. “Come on, kid. I know a secret way in.”

Of course he did. Guti knew everything. Before Raúl could even lodge a protest, they’d made their way inside and were roaming through one of the internal hallways that Raúl hadn’t yet fully memorized. 

“Where are we going?” He asked, voice low, like he was afraid someone might hear them. “And why are we here? Chema?”

“Shh,” was Guti’s reply, and he held tight to Raúl’s hand, their fingers intertwined as he led them through the dark and winding passageways.

Soon, though, they came to a place Raúl recognized. Via a back stairway they’d found the first team locker room. Guti switched on the light, and they started to look around.

“Your name isn’t even up yet,” Guti announced, arms crossed in a sort of defiant pose that made Raúl feel pretty pleased with himself. “This is a disgrace. Your name should be up here.”

“I don’t want mine up until you’re here with me.” Blame it on the wine, it was a lame thing to say, but it was true. 

Guti shook his head, laughing sharply. “I’m going to be on C for the rest of my life, I sw—” He stopped short, just as he turned to look at Raúl. “I— I—” Guti’s face went pale, blue eyes the size of paella pans. “Baby…?”

Raúl frowned at him, his heart suddenly fluttering like a caged bird in his chest, “What? What’s wrong?”

“There’s…” Guti swallowed hard, staying perfectly still. “Something behind you. Don’t move.”

Raúl’s own eyes went wide. “What is it?”

Guti inhaled and exhaled very slowly. “I think it might be a ghost.”

Raúl’s skin turned almost grayish. “What…”

“Turn around, baby! Look behind you!”

He stared at Guti for a moment more, then swallowed back his fear and turned around, finding himself face to face with a face.

“Ahhh!” He cried out, jumping about twelve feet into the air, scuttling backwards on the floor toward Guti before he realized he’d been looking in a mirror and had in fact just shrieked and freaked out over his own reflection. 

Behind him, Guti was hunched over in laugher. “Oh my god, you fell for it! I can’t believe it!”

Raúl narrowed his eyes, his cheeks burning a little. “Wow, José. Very mature. Definitely something a grown-ass adult would do. Totally. For sure.”

Guti just kept on laughing, even as he offered a hand to help Raúl to his feet. The younger man refused it and got up on his own, dusting himself off with a huff. “You’re a real jerk, you know that.”

Guti finally caught his breath, his smile fading just a little. “Yeah, well. You’re into it.”

Raúl opened his mouth to protest but stopped short. And this time, it wasn't because of something Guti did. It was because the lights suddenly went out, and without any warning they were in total pitch dark.

“Fuck,” Guti hissed, an unmistakable hint of panic in his voice.

Raúl blinked, hoping his eyes would adjust. He felt a hand take hold of his, and instinctively, he gave it a squeeze. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He heard footsteps from over his shoulder, and at the same instant, the hand he was holding yanked him forward. 

“Enough pranks!” Raúl shouted, actually angry with Guti. “Stop it, Chema!”

“It’s not me!” 

Raúl stumbled, then found his feet, just as the lights came back on again. Guti was standing by the door, next to the light switch, and there was no one in front of Raúl. In fact, it was just them in the locker room. They were all alone.

“What the hell was that?” Guti stammered, looking just as afraid as Raúl felt. 

“I want to go home,” Raúl whimpered.

“But you _are_ home,” a voice said softly. It was quiet, with a strange echoing quality to it. And it for sure belonged to a woman. “I’ve been waiting for you, Alfonso.”

Raúl legitimately almost pissed himself. Guti grabbed him by the elbow and tugged him out the door before he could completely lose his senses though. Still, he was so scared out of his mind that he lost the ability to speak until they were sprinting through the hallway about a minute later.

“What the fuck was that?” He cried, still being pulled along by Guti. “Chema?!”

“That was Mercedes,” Guti hissed, slowing slightly to round a corner. 

“But that’s just a dumb story! One you made up to freak me out! Álvaro said so!”

“Álvaro’s an idiot!” The corridor ahead of them branched off into three different directions. Guti slowed down again, quickly looking down each hall, like he was either trying to guess which was was out, or maybe remember it. After a few tense seconds, he chose the hallway on the left. “This way!”

Raúl stayed in step with him and they ran together down the hall until they came to a heavy metal exit door. Guti pushed it wide open, and instead of finding themselves outside and on the relative safety of the Chamartín sidewalk, they found themselves running out onto the darkened field. Aside from them, the stadium was empty. The lights were out. Aside from the moon, they were bathed in utter darkness. The sight was entirely surreal.

“Oh shit,” Guti muttered, looking around for the nearest escape route and drawing a blank.

“How did we even get here?” Raúl asked, still in a daze. Honestly, he was too buzzed and too terrified for this, and all he wanted was to go home and go to bed, and to maybe reevaluate his decision to date Guti Hernández.

“You’ve come home to me,” a voice beckoned from across the green. She sounded so sweet, so frail, so lonely. “Alfonso, I’ve been waiting.”

Guti held fast to Raúl’s hand. “Neither of us is Alfonso, Mercedes.”

“Alfonso isn’t here,” Raúl chimed in, hoping that would help.

There then came a gust of cool wind, brushing over them both, sending shivers down each of their spines, and out of the corner of his eye, Raúl could’ve sworn he caught a glimpse of a translucent figure in a long, black mantilla.

“But where is he?” The voice asked, quaking and quivering, like she was on the verge of tears. “Why are you keeping him from me?”

“No one would keep him from you,” Guti offered. “We would never keep him from you.”

“Maybe he’s been delayed,” Raúl tried. “But he’ll come back to you. I’m sure he didn’t mean to leave you.”

The ghost, wherever she was, started to weep. “I’ve been waiting for him. Why hasn’t he come for me?”

Guti and Raúl looked to one another, each noting the fear in the other’s eyes as they silently attempted to communicate a plan. Unfortunately, neither of them had spontaneously developed telepathy and they were left just gaping at each other.

“I’ve been tending to our garden,” the spirit said, a flash of her silhouette appearing in the dark. She was kneeling, fingertips in the grass, looking at the lawn with great pride. “Just as he wanted. I’m keeping it beautiful for him.”

“That’s just what he would want,” Raúl nodded firmly. “He’ll be very happy when he gets here.”

Mercedes looked up at them and smiled, expression unmoving and unnerving. “Yes, I think he’ll be glad.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for him for you,” Guti added. “We’ll bring him right to you, if we happen to see him.”

“You’re good boys,” the spirit said, fading away into the night. “So noble, so kind. Good boys.”

And so, just as soon as she’d made her presence known, the apparition had disappeared. 

“Let’s go,” Raúl said. “Now.”

He got no protest from Guti. In fact, he didn’t get a single _word_ out of him until they were both back at Guti’s house, shut safe inside Guti’s bedroom, his parents finally hope and sound asleep down the hall. Guti locked his bedroom door for good measure, just to be sure they were all alone.

Raúl sat on the bed watching him, waiting until he heard the lock click before unleashing a flurry of outrage. “What the hell was that, José? Why the hell did we even go there? That was so messed up!”

Guti looked deflated, pulling off his shirt and throwing it to the floor. “I just wanted to go there tonight. I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

Raúl stared at him, narrowing his dark eyes. “What was that though? Tell me the truth this time.”

Guti shrugged and shook his head. “It was a ghost, I guess.”

“But ghosts aren’t real. That was all just a bullshit story you made up to haze me.”

“I didn’t make it up,” Guti mumbled, unfastening his jeans. “The older guys used to tell us about her all the time. Mercedes, the ghost who lives at the stadium. I swear to you, I didn’t make it up, Raúl.”

The younger man wanted to pout, but he resisted the urge. Instead he glared daggers. 

Guti looked up at him and let out a sigh. “I didn’t know she was real. If I’d known there was an actual ghost haunting the Bernabéu, do you think I’d sneak in there on Halloween?”

“Yes.”

“Come on!”

Raúl twisted his lips into the faintest of pouts, unable to fight it any longer. “That was just really fucked up, okay?”

“I totally agree.” Guti nodded, pushing his pants down over his hips. He looked up at Raúl expectantly. “But it’s over now and we can forget about it.”

Raúl crossed his arms over his chest and just stared back.

“It’s still my birthday, you know.”

Raúl felt his cheeks flush. Guti leered at him. Then he pounced. And they both promptly forgot about the entire affair… until the next time they found themselves sneaking around the Bernabéu by themselves. But that’s another ghost story for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Raúl's debut was in an away match against Real Zaragoza and it took place on October 29, 1994, two days before Guti turned 18 on October 31st.  
> \- Mercedes is named for [Mercedes of Orléans](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mercedes_of_Orl%C3%A9ans). She was the Queen of Spain for six months before she died of typhoid in June 1878, two days after turning 18.  
> \- Her spirit is definitely _not_ haunting the Bernabéu.  
>  \- Alfonso is named for her husband, King Alfonso XII.  
> \- His son by his second wife was King Alfonso XIII, who granted the 'Real' part of the name Real Madrid.


End file.
